Playing Games
Every night, if I'm the one putting Melina and Aaron to bed (at separate times, mind you, since one child is six, the other, ten), I hear two things:
1. From Melina: "Can you sleep with me for one minute, go downstairs, do your stuff, then come back up and sleep with me?"
2. From Aaron: "Can you check on Pou and Nyan Cat?"
Every night the kids ask those questions. The same questions. No variation on a theme. In fact, if Melina or Aaron forget to ask the question, they will call for me, have me come back into the room, and ask me the question.
I never have a good answer. For Melina, I tell her, "I'll try," and the answer to Aaron's question is always "maybe." But I will tell you a little secret here that is sure to shock you: I lie. Each and every night, I LIE TO MY CHILDREN!
At that point, I just need to escape the room and "do my stuff" as Melina says. I have laundry to fold, writing to do, twins to help, dishes to finish. Who knows what awaits me at the bottom of the stairs. I need to get there. And I've found, over the years, that my standard answer is satisfactory. They don't really care if I check on those cyber animals or come back in to rest with them, they just want to know that yes, I heard what they said, and that maybe it will happen. I think my steadfast and never-changing answer is what allows those two pipsqueaks to sleep. All is right with their world when I leave the room. If I change the answer, who knows what can happen?
The professionals say that children thrive on routine. Heck, humans all do to some extent. My children are no exception, obviously. I do have to say, as Aaron and Melina get older, I might try to slip a different answer in there one night. I'll do it on a weekend, though, in case my experimentation is a bust and the deviation from the norm causes a restless, sleepless night.
1. From Melina: "Can you sleep with me for one minute, go downstairs, do your stuff, then come back up and sleep with me?"
2. From Aaron: "Can you check on Pou and Nyan Cat?"
Every night the kids ask those questions. The same questions. No variation on a theme. In fact, if Melina or Aaron forget to ask the question, they will call for me, have me come back into the room, and ask me the question.
I never have a good answer. For Melina, I tell her, "I'll try," and the answer to Aaron's question is always "maybe." But I will tell you a little secret here that is sure to shock you: I lie. Each and every night, I LIE TO MY CHILDREN!
At that point, I just need to escape the room and "do my stuff" as Melina says. I have laundry to fold, writing to do, twins to help, dishes to finish. Who knows what awaits me at the bottom of the stairs. I need to get there. And I've found, over the years, that my standard answer is satisfactory. They don't really care if I check on those cyber animals or come back in to rest with them, they just want to know that yes, I heard what they said, and that maybe it will happen. I think my steadfast and never-changing answer is what allows those two pipsqueaks to sleep. All is right with their world when I leave the room. If I change the answer, who knows what can happen?
The professionals say that children thrive on routine. Heck, humans all do to some extent. My children are no exception, obviously. I do have to say, as Aaron and Melina get older, I might try to slip a different answer in there one night. I'll do it on a weekend, though, in case my experimentation is a bust and the deviation from the norm causes a restless, sleepless night.
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